Andy arrived at school full of energy and zest, excited to ask questions he’d been tossing over all night…

Yesterday, he learned about a civilization that lived thousands of years ago in the north of Africa… Ancient Egypt… and now he wanted to know how the pyramids were built.

He was the first to raise his hand that morning, eager to ask the burning question - “HOW did they get those heavy rocks to the tops of the huge pyramids?” His enthusiasm was shot down that morning when he was told that there would be no Social Science that day, and he’d have to wait until next week to find out.

Ikram painted a picture of the solar system yesterday and took it home to show his family. After dinner, he spent the evening listening to stories about the first moon landing back in 1969, his grandfather had been an intern at NASA that year, and now enjoyed sharing his memories with anyone who would listen. Ikram was enthralled. He couldn’t wait to get to school to tell his teacher all about Apollo 11.

The next morning, he bounced into class and, before even sitting down, he was rattling off facts about the first successful mission to the moon. Ikram’s teacher smiled, set aside the work she had planned for their Maths lesson, and followed his story with the question - “How fast did the Apollo 11 need to travel to reach the moon in 4 days?”

Andy and Ikram had very different experiences at school that day.

Andy learned that curiosity has a timetable and that his questions must wait in line.

Ikram learned that learning has no limits when wonder leads the way.

One child was told to pause his passion.

The other was encouraged to pursue it.

And in that one small moment, between the question asked and the way it is received, we choose the kind of education we offer:

One that dulls the spark, or one that fans it into flames.

That morning, Ikram’s teacher made a choice that turned curiosity into connection - and connection into learning. Her maths lesson wasn’t wasted, infact it was invaluable. That morning the class learned about speed, distance, and time - a concept that had to be taught later in the term, but now was covered in the context of something real, a topic that organically grew from the real and tangible excitement of a student… a skill that would now stick.

Numbers that may have been abstract if taught in the context of a train travelling between two unknown stations were now real when racing through space to reach the moon in 1969.

What began as an art project about perspective in space had organically developed into a spontaneous story of history through the eyes of someone who experienced it, and into a meaningful and memorable lesson in Maths.

This is the power of responsive teaching and effective education.

So how do we all be more like Ikram’s teacher?

It starts with listening.

Not just to the answers, but to questions.

Listening not just to the curriculum demands, but to the quiet cues students give when they’re excited, curious, and deeply engaged.

Being like Ikram’s teacher doesn’t mean abandoning the curriculum; it means being open to holding it loosely enough to give student interest a place in the classroom and let real learning breathe.

It means seeing the links between the topics they ask about and the skills they need to learn.

It’s being willing to adapt lessons on the spot, to pack away pre-planned worksheets in exchange for live learning and discussions, to recognise teachable moments and lean into them with the same curiosity and excitement for learning that your students bring to the classroom.

It’s choosing connection over control and relevance over routine.

It’s about remembering that content learnt in context is crucial for genuine understanding and lasting retention.

“The art of teaching is the art of assisting discovery.” -Mark Van Doren

Do you agree?